Seamus Brennan & 'Kingston Security Agency'

Seamus Brennan sat in his so-called office, a cramped back room above a noisy saloon on the fringes of the Lower East Side. Office was a grand word for it; it was little more than a space with a rickety desk, a couple of mismatched chairs, and a persistent draft that seemed to whisper his worries. And his worries were plentiful. His Father and Mother, their bones weary and their breaths shallow, couldn't work anymore. His wife Lucy, bless her heart, did what she could, mending clothes and taking in odd jobs, but their three children were growing like weeds, their appetites matching their expanding sizes. The security gigs he'd been landing were few and far between, the pay barely enough to keep the wolf from the door.

The unexpected five hundred dollars from Mr. Kingston for his work during the newsboys' strike had been a lifeline, a brief respite from the gnawing anxiety that had become his constant companion. It had allowed Lucy to buy some decent clothes for their young children and put a bit of meat on the table for a few extra meals. But the money was dwindling fast, the needs of his large family always outpacing their meager resources.

Just as the weight of his troubles threatened to suffocate him, the door to his 'office' creaked open. Standing in the doorway were Mr. John Kingston, Mr. George Kingston, and young Master Michael. A surge of hope flickered in Seamus's chest. Their presence couldn't be just a social call.

"Mr. John, Mr. George, Master Michael," Seamus said, rising to his feet, his voice tinged with a respect that went beyond their wealth. He gestured towards the less wobbly of the two chairs. "Please, have a seat." There was a hopeful lilt in his tone, a silent question hanging in the air.

John and Michael settled onto the offered chair, George remaining standing, his gaze taking in the humble surroundings.

"Mr. Brennan," John began, his tone direct and businesslike, "we were wondering if you might be interested in taking on a permanent position with our family."

Seamus blinked, a knot of confusion tightening in his stomach. "A… permanent position, sir? What would that entail?"

George stepped forward. "John and I have been discussing it, and we've decided to establish a dedicated security company to look after our various interests. We were very impressed with your capabilities and your… character during the recent troubles. We'd like you to head up this new venture."

Seamus's surprise was evident. He ran a calloused hand through his thinning hair. "A security company, sirs? May I ask why?"

Before either of the elder Kingstons could answer, Master Michael spoke, his voice surprisingly firm for a child. "Our way of doing business, Mr. Brennan, is likely to make us some enemies. We need reliable protection, people we can trust."

Seamus's gaze flickered towards the boy, taken aback by his mature and pragmatic tone. "But… wouldn't it be simpler to hire an established agency? Like Pinkerton's, perhaps?"

Master Michael shook his head, his expression serious. "Those agencies, Mr. Brennan, often take on jobs that involve union-busting and even some… less than legal activities. That's not what we want. We want to build something of our own, something that reflects our values."

Seamus looked from the boy to Mr. John and Mr. George, who both nodded in agreement, their faces confirming the truth of Michael's words. 

"And… what sort of compensation would such a position involve, Mr. Kingston?" Seamus asked, his hope rising with each passing moment.

"We're prepared to offer you an annual salary of two thousand dollars, Mr. Brennan," John replied, his gaze steady.

Seamus's breath hitched. Two thousand dollars! Surgeons, bankers, even lawyers in 1899 often earned around fifteen hundred dollars a year. This was an extraordinary sum.

"And," George added, a warm smile on his face, "you and your family will also receive a generous discount at our general stores on groceries and other necessities."

Seamus was overwhelmed. "Sirs, I… I don't know what to say. Why me? Why this trust in me?"

John leaned forward. "Your work during the strike spoke volumes. And we made some inquiries, Mr. Brennan. We know about your discharge from the military – the refusal to fire on unarmed and surrendered Indians. That showed us the kind of man you are."

Seamus's confusion deepened. Usually, potential employers saw that incident as a mark against him, a sign of insubordination. It had cost him more than one job opportunity.

Michael, as if reading his thoughts, interjected, "It shows your character, Mr. Brennan. We don't want goons. We want guards who will protect our family and who possess a strong moral compass."

Seamus felt a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling akin to pride he hadn't experienced in years. He was being valued not for his obedience to questionable orders, but for his integrity.

"Mr. Kingston," Seamus said, his voice thick with emotion, "I accept. I will gladly join your company."

"Excellent," Michael said, a hint of a smile finally gracing his young features. "And if you have any… buddies, men of similar character to yourself, we would be interested in speaking with them as well."

Seamus nodded, a sense of purpose settling over him. "I do, Master Michael. I know just the lads."

True to his word, Seamus recruited six of his former comrades, men he trusted implicitly. Mr. John, without hesitation, rented a small office space for them in a respectable building downtown, a far cry from Seamus's cramped room above the saloon. The new company was officially named the Kingston Security Agency.

Shortly thereafter, John and Dad set off for Texas, leaving security of their New York interests in Seamus's capable hands.

Months slipped by, the seasons turning with their familiar rhythm. By the time November's chill filled the air, the members of the Kingston Security Agency had seamlessly integrated into their new roles, becoming a discreet but ever-present shield around the Kingston family and their businesses. They had also, in their quiet observations, come to understand the unique dynamics of the Kingston household. They saw the genuine affection and respect between the family members, a stark contrast to the often-strained relationships they had witnessed in other wealthy circles. They noted the fair wages and the dignified treatment accorded to all Kingston employees, a testament to the family's belief in the value of honest labor.

Seamus soon brought on three more men he had served with, all possessing the same quiet competence and unwavering integrity. The Kingston Security Agency now boasted a total of ten reliable guards.

As November approached its end, plans were made for a trip to Texas. Mary, Elizabeth, and Michael, accompanied by Seamus and another guard named Jack, boarded a train bound for Beaumont. They were traveling to celebrate Michael's upcoming tenth birthday with John and George, who were eagerly awaiting their arrival. The family planned to spend the holidays together in Texas, staying until the New Year had passed.

They were greeted warmly at the train station in Beaumont by Father John and Dad George. Standing slightly behind them were two unfamiliar faces, strong-looking men with Stetson hats and a watchful demeanor. "Mary, Elizabeth, Michael!" John exclaimed, embracing his wife and Michael. George offered Elizabeth a welcoming hug. 

"These are Clay and Boone," John said, gesturing to the two men behind them. "They've joined our security team down here."

The family was escorted to the spacious house John and George had built in Beaumont. After ensuring the family was settled in their new surroundings, Seamus and Jack bid them farewell. Their duty was complete, and they boarded the next train back to New York, leaving the Kingston family to enjoy their time together in Texas.